Free Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 06 by Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers

“Have we crossed the international date line yet? Are we going backward or forward through time? It could be 1066 for all we know.”
    Jas is reading her ludicrous fungi book so she didn’t even bother to answer.
    half an hour later (or perhaps half an hour sooner, who knows?)
    The captain came and walked down the aisle saying hello to people. He was not what I would call a confidence-inducing sight, although at least he wasn’t wearing a kilt. He looked close to eighty-five; also, he bumped into an air hostess so maybe he has failing eyesight. Or at the least very bad spatial awareness.
    As the captain passed by us, Mum said, “Is everything alright, Captain?”
    And he winked. Honestly. A million miles up in the air with no visible means of support and you have a winker in charge. He said, “Aye, madam, it’s gud weather for flying.”
    Libby looked at him and smiled her tongue-through-the-teeth smile.
    â€œHeggo, mister man, give me and my fwends naaaiice sweeties.”
    Mum said, “Libby, naughty girl, the captain is too busy to—”
    But the captain had clearly never had any experience of the bonkers toddly folk, because he said, “Come on, then, little lassie, let’s see what we can find for ye.”
    two minutes later
    Libby lobes the captain. She is sitting on his knee at the back of the plane, singing him her poo song. He is joining in.
    Mum was looking back and smiling and saying to me, “Aaaahh, that’s sweet, isn’t it?”
    There was a bit of a pause and then she yelled, “Oh, my God, who is driving the plane???!!!”
    touchdown
    Miraculously we have landed safely. After making such a fuss about everything, Mum fell asleep. In fact all of the grown-ups were unconscious when we landed in Memphis. Jas was checking her watch as we took our rollers out. She said, “Isn’t it weird that it is more or less the same time as when we took off, and that we landed yesterday as far as Hunky is concerned?”
    Good grief, I needn’t have bothered about day to evening wear.
    However I have got maximous voluminosity and bounceability on the hair front. I may write a book on international beauty tips.

howdy, hamburger-a-gogo land, brace yourselves for a knicker invasion
    memphis airport
    Let the Luuurve trail commence!!!
    Me and Jas did a tribute disco inferno dance when we got off the plane.
    twenty minutes later, waiting for our luggage
    I haven’t seen anyone who hasn’t got a mustache yet.
    And frankly that is not attractive in a woman.
    customs
    I was singing “Head ’em up, round ’em up, head ’em out, rawhide. Head ’em up, round ’em up, head ’em out, rawhide rawhiiiiiiiiide” in an amusing and entertaining way as we got our stuff and trundled along to customs, but it was, I have to say, not going down very well. In fact it was like being in Hawkeye City.
    The customs man asked me if I was bringing in any livestock. I thought he was having a laugh, so I said, “Only, as you see, my father and his mate.”
    He wasn’t having a laugh.
    Not at all.
    in our rental car
    A willing but dim Hamburger-a-gogo chap (with a mustache) showed us to a massive black limo–type scenario. It was called a “mustang” or “arsekicker” or something. Anyway, it was big as a big thing. Dad and Uncle Eddie were ecstatic, kicking the tires and so on—it is vair vair sad.
    The w-but-d chap said, “This is your vee-hick-el, sir. Now, you all drive safely, you hear?”
    What was he going on about?
    What is a vee-hick-el?
    Jas said, “Does he mean a vehicle?”
    I said, “Get loose, Jassy Spazzy. Who cares as long as the vee-hick-el is a Luuurve vee-hick-el. Prepare to enter the vee-hick-el. Adjust your knickers, we are on our way!!”
    After a million years of Dad fiddling with keys, we got into one of the eighty-five million seats inside and snuggled down